


Blue

by monanotlisa



Category: Moonlight (2016)
Genre: Black Character(s), Black Family, Canon Compliant, Character Study, Comfort, Family, Future, Happy Ending, Hope, Love, M/M, Paula (mentioned), Post-Canon, Relationship(s), Wordcount: 1.000-5.000
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-18
Updated: 2017-12-18
Packaged: 2019-02-16 11:15:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,083
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13052904
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/monanotlisa/pseuds/monanotlisa
Summary: Not just handsome, not just cute under all that muscle and gold for protection.





	1. Chulo

**Author's Note:**

  * For [major_general](https://archiveofourown.org/users/major_general/gifts).



It was under the mattress, mightnight bedsheets draped messily around it. 

The messiness of it had caught Kevin’s eye. Chiron was no neat freak, but he was methodical, orderly. Tried to be, anyway; back in the day it had been difficult. Back in the day, lots of people had made it difficult for Chiron. Kevin, too, sometimes. When it mattered most. 

He rolled his shoulders. Then, Kevin reached for that triangle of a corner sticking out from under the mattress. The notebook slid into his hand easily, like it had been pushed in and pulled out many times. Kevin was no fool. It didn’t take a genius to figure out it was Chiron’s customer list in this place. Kevin didn’t want to know. Only he did. _Punto_. He ran his fingers over the faux leather, turned it sideways to peer at well-thumbed pages. 

Snooping wasn’t doing right by Chiron. And Kevin wasn’t interested in this shit any more. He licked his lips and looked at Chiron’s door, its solid locks and solid wood a testament to Vine City. Chiron wouldn’t be back soon, though the exact time was hard to tell. Or, hard to tell from Chiron’s words. From everything else Kevin knew, Chiron would be back in half an hour or so, after nine a.m. Morning rush hour was brutal, but it it hid a multitude of sins. Everybody was on the go-go-go: White boys from the “Metro” part of Atlanta in their shiny cars, eyes growing shinier when they saw the corner boys. They never saw Chiron’s car. Which made Kevin smile even now. That car.

This notebook. Kevin swallowed. Then he slowly slid it back into its hiding place.

Kevin stood up and made the bed. Tugged the sheets into place, and if he took a slow whiff of them while he did it, no one had to know. There was being good, and then there was wasting a good opportunity. He took a shower and had to tap the showerhead only twice to keep the water trickling. 

At nine-thirteen a.m., Chiron’s key clicked in the door. Kevin stopped toweling his hair, put the towel on the chair, and turned around. The morning light framed Chiron stepping into the apartment. Dark skin and gold, a full-body halo of it. Kevin couldn’t suppress a shiver. 

“You cold?” Chiron closed the door so gently it didn’t even creak. He carelessly dropped a paper bag by the doorjamb and walked up to Kevin. He didn’t say anything, but he did slip his warm, uncalloused fingers through Kevin’s. His eyes were wide, asking. Kevin breathed in and out and nodded. Yes, he was cold. That was it. Chiron could warm him up.

Pity about the bed, he supposed. 

Or, Kevin supposed so, until an hour later. Chiron asked him: “You made the bed?” He stretched like a cat basking in a sunbeam His skin glistened. Kevin blinked the sweat out of his own eyes and lifted his head from Chiron’s chest. It was so damn easy to just look at Chiron, his face and eyes and the slow, sweet curve of his mouth. But a question was a question. “I did. Domestic, huh?”

Chiron’s lips parted in a shadow-smile. Then he dipped his chin to the side of the bed. Still unhurried, he reached down and retrieved the notebook. For a moment, Kevin felt his heart speed up again, this time the spike not the exhilarating, welcome kind. But Chiron’s eyes weren’t angry. They weren’t even disappointed. He looked…nervous? Probably because the thing he did next was to fold the notebook into Kevin’s hand. 

Kevin rolled to his side, Chiron’s eyes on him. Chiron moved and mirrored him. 

When the book opened for Kevin, it wasn’t names and numbers. He was looking at much more than that: loopy, awkward handwriting, page after page, each entry with a date on top. This maybe wasn’t a diary; Kevin wouldn’t be caught dead calling it that. But it was a reflection of Chiron’s thoughts from late at night, maybe his early mornings. Not a lot for each entry but a lot overall. There were notes about his momma. “Paula” throughout. Taking her to the doctor for an assessment back in Miami, kicking and screaming. About appointment after appointment at drug treatment homes in places Kevin had never heard of; Adair Park, Midtown and Sweet Auburn. Flight plans from Miami International to Hartsfield-Jackson and their execution, none of it easy. But all of it done, for Paula. Step by step. Slowly but surely.

“Oh,” Kevin whispered, and before he could stop himself, “chulo.” He leaned down to kiss Chiron. Chiron ducked his head. When Kevin whispered the endearment to him over and over into Chiron’s ear, his smile held something like hope. 

This time when Kevin flew back to Miami, he didn’t feel weird for sitting in a fancy airplane seat on Chiron’s dime. Chiron had taken a chance on him, that night he came down to Miami and straight to a diner by the edge of the road. He’d taken a chance ever after. Kevin still remembered the wetness on Chiron’s face their first time in Chiron’s bed. How he had let Kevin’s arms wrap around him. Even though it had been too hot even underneath the air conditioner, neither had let go. Kevin remembered his own phone call earlier just as clearly. How his hands had not stopped shaking, no matter how much he tried. The meal he made for Chiron that night — not his best work, either, but still good. 

Kevin thought of his greasy spoon and firm grip. On comfort food, that was. He thought of Chiron’s notebook. This was it. He’d always known Chiron was special. Not just handsome, not just cute under all that muscle and gold for protection. He could do this. They could do this. Together.


	2. Sir

“Pipo!” 

Kevin looked up. Luis next to him at the stainless-steel counter was waving at the delivery boy, a skinny Black boy of what, sixteen? Kevin thought his name was Jayden, or maybe Jaylen or Jaime, but he’d get to that later. Right now, he nudged Luis with his shoulder none too gently. “Ain’t no waiters here, Luis. The boy has a name.” 

Not that Kevin knew it, but, eh. Details.

Luis made a show of turning his three-hundred pound frame toward Kevin, but Kevin knew it was just that: for show. Luis would hurt a fly, but that was about the only thing these days. So Kevin smiled as easily as his hands were scooping a perfect half-globe of piccadillo into the container, exactly one inch from the plantains and another inch from the rice. Some people didn’t like their foods to touch. Kevin didn’t mind touching, but to each their own. 

He held Luis' gaze but didn’t stop working, carefully closing the container and putting it onto the conveyor belt: their latest investment, made possible by a more than generous donation. At the other end of the belt, Jasmine would label, tag, and bag it. He’d usually give her a wink, just for old time’s sake, but of course — Luis.

Who sighed dramatically and rolled his eyes. His shoulders dropped. He didn’t even look over at the board on the far wall, with The Rules scribbled on it in bold, black letters. “Jaime!” 

The boy ambled over to Luis and Kevin, hand tugging nervously at the collar of his jacket. “CUIDATE,” the embroidery said, but Kevin could only see his lanky frame and those dark eyes. 

“Just making sure you’re careful, alright?” Luis said to Jaime. “Rice is a little watery today. Don’t be taking those corners at forty, you know?” He was right, Kevin thought; he’d felt it while putting the dishes together, too. Only he’d been a little too focused on the clock on the wall. Tonight was Paula night, after all.

“Trip to Coral Gables isn’t too long, though,” Kevin said. “ No need to rush. Just pay attention, man.”

The boy, Jaime, blinked earnestly at that. “‘course. You got it.” He was smart, too, giving a respectful nod to Luis. Which was, really, what Luis wanted here. This wasn’t the hard life, not by a long shot. Kitchen work was grueling, clients were fussy, and if Kevin had to deal again with another coño at Garcia’s trying to sell rockfish as grouper…

The sound of the industrial door sliding open diverted Kevin’s attention. Maybe he did have some of the fidgets, still. But no, his instincts were good. Chiron was coming in through the door, unscheduled but welcome. So welcome. Kevin lifted his chin at Luis and Jaime, and rang the little bell above the counter. It took less than a minute for someone to arrive. Yumi tilted her head at Kevin, neck tattoos flashing. “You need to switch out?” she asked, and he nodded, eyes barely on her. He did manage a smile and gratefully folded hands at her, before hurrying — no, walking, quickly — to Chiron.

“Hey,” Chiron said, and his smile lit up the already pretty bright kitchen. His navy suit was immaculate, even now, around noontime, his dress shirt still starchy enough. The cool pink made his dark skin pop. He looked good enough to eat. “Want to join me?” And, almost apologetically, “marketing trip.”

“Yes,” Kevin said automatically. He’d have to take a brief shower in the staff bathroom, but that was alright; he had several sets of clothing here at Cuidate in his locker. One was even nice. Not Chiron-nice. But nice enough.

On the road to Biscayne Bay, Kevin tore his his eyes away from Chiron long enough prepare. First, the folder — their portfolio of dishes. Second, the little bag of sample portions: Fricasé de Pollo, Pernil Relleno, and, naturally, Picadillo. Third, the order forms. Contracts, he knew, but he also knew he didn’t have to know too much about their mechanics. He just needed to know how they worked in real life.

Chiron parked the Corvette on the white gravel, perfectly evenly spaced. They rang the doorbell. Kevin didn’t even sweat under his own shirt. Not any more.

The lady who opened gave them a glance, but it wasn't long or lingering. She was tall, even accounting for her heels, black hair straight and luminous. Her lipstick was candy-apple red, matching perfectly the soles of her heels. She reminded Kevin a little of his son’s mother, only rich. And only of passing interest to Kevin. She tilted her head. “You must the Cuidate representatives; glad to see you. Come in, please.” She correctly honed in on Chiron. “I know I saw it on your website, but what was your name again, sir?”

Chiron smiled.


	3. Daddy

It was getting late. Kevin could see the last light of the day reflecting off the water of the bay outside the window. Almost time, then.

“Kevin,” he called. “What does the clock say?”

No response. 

Kevin walked down the narrow condo corridor and tip-toed around the corner into the living room. The lamps cast a soft yellow glow on Chiron and Kevin Junior, both asleep on the worn couch. The boy was curled up Chiron’s lap, drooling a little onto the pages of the book. Kevin couldn’t quite make out the title, but there was a cartoon barber cutting a kid’s hair on the upside-down cover. 

For what it was worth, maybe Chiron was drooling a little too. His hands were loosely wrapped around Kevin Junior’s middle where the boy's royal blue pajama shirt had ridden up. Chiron's hands were large and undoubtedly keeping the boy warm. 

Kevin was feeling weirdly warm himself. He hated what he had to do next, but it wouldn’t get easier later on if he didn’t do it. He walked over and stroked the boy’s curls. “Kevin, hush." 

The boy woke with a yawn. Peevishly, of course. Kevin smiled. " There’s a real bed for you in your room.”

A bed overflowing with toys, too, not quite half of them from Paula; there were Teresa's too. And his ex-wife's. Well, and Chiron's and his.

“Nooo,” his son whined, despite barely keeping his eyes open. “Just one more story. We just got started, didn’t we, Daddy?”

Chiron blinked, probably just as sleepy. “We did, but it’s time. You know it.”

Kevin Junior chewed his lip thoughtfully, but grudgingly accepted. “Yeah, yeah. But you gotta brush your teeth with me!”

“Sounds good,” Chiron said, looking up at Kevin. 

“Sounds perfect,” Kevin said.

**Author's Note:**

> For the prompt, _I really just want them to be happy. I want them to be happy and raise Kevin, Jr and give him a better life than they had._
> 
> Title taken from Tarell Alvin McCraney's script he transformed into the movie together with Barry Jenkins, "In Moonlight Black Boys Look Blue."
> 
> Thanks to thelastgoodname for plotting and planning, and to ladyjax and samjohnsson for beautiful beta work. All remaining mistakes are mine.


End file.
